


This Impossible Love

by Littletee



Series: This Impossible Love [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Gen, Marauders' Era, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littletee/pseuds/Littletee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious potion, that only a true potion masters can brew, claims it can not only show you your soulmate but transverse space, time and reality to bring them to you. Although, skeptical at the preposterous claim Severus brews it if only to prove his mastery at potions, but like with most areas of magic it does deliver on its promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter does not belong to LittleTee, (who shall henceforth be referred to as "The Author.") While the plot of this fanfiction, (henceforth to be referred to as the "Story,") is of The Author's creation, neither the characters nor the locations therein belong to The Author, as they belong to JK Rowling, with the exception of any characters or locations within this Story which have no representation in cannon-these original characters and locations are the property of The Author. This is a work of fiction produced for the single purpose of entertaining fans of Harry Potter, and no Copyright infringement is intended.

"... Stir ten times anti-clockwise; simmer five minutes; wave your wand in the following motion while chanting this incantation trice." Severus muttered to himself checking over the old potion recipe he had discovered by sheer luck from a book he had brought from Professor Jones, who had taken over the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching post from Professor Hoag after the incidence between Mulciber and Macdonald. He still blamed himself for not coming to Mary's aid. If it hadn't been for the quick thinking of that Ravenclaw first-year Lockhart...

Severus shook his head as he willed himself not to think of that incident. Mary Macdonald was alive that was the important thing to remember, and his former housemate was behind bars at Azkaban where he belongs for using an unforgivable. He finished crushing the dry mixture of blended ingredients in the mortar and pinched four measures of the mixture into the bubbling brew before him.

After stirring the allotted ten times anti-clockwise he set the underlying flame to the desired length and intensity before enchanting his wand to notify him when the five minutes had passed. He had spent so much time and energy to get to this far of the three-part potion. He didn't want to miss a chance to see his friend's face again by over cooking the brew. He was too close to take a chance.

He walked over to one of the bare windows that lined the old, abandoned classroom at Hogwarts. The classroom, which had not been used since the mid-nineteenth century if the thick cobwebs and layers of dust that made up the room was anything to go on, looked out onto the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest. The beauty and magic of the old castle slash school had turned to one painful reminder that he was alone and friendless. He had acquaintances and confrères if he could use the latter term for his house-mates, but he lacked anyone he could truly call a friend. An ally. Like he once had.

Severus turned away from the window. He willed himself against reliving one of the saddest moment of his life when he had – by allowing his anger to grow unchecked – lost the only bright aspect of his life, his friendship to Lily Evans.

" _If this potion works like it should...,"_ he silently tailed off as his wand chimed the five notes notifying Severus that the potion needed his attention. He strode across the classroom in four quick steps and began waving his wand in the pattern that resembled a Celtic-knot and chanted the inscribed Latin phrase from the book three times.

He took a step back watching as the purple haze floated up from his cauldron. The potion had been brewed correctly; the color of the haze and the desired effect of the haze becoming a pillar told Severus as much. It slowly began to morph into an apparition of a girl.

Severus dropped his wand as the haze finished its transformation. Shades of purple painted the image of a girl about his age in a haunting greyscale, but even if it had been in Technicolor he could tell that the vision of the girl was differently not Lily. The eyes staring back into his own shined with a different depth of intensity and the hair. Sweet Merlin, help him. That hair! Lily didn't have a curly mane of bushy hair like that. Nor did Lily have two front teeth that were slightly longer than the rest. Or, later when he was being honest with himself, the warmth that radiated off her persona when this girl smiled. Like she was doing now.

Her grin helped him regain his momentary stupor. The supposed picture of his soul-mate was not Lily, but another girl. A girl he had never seen before.

"No!" He shouted picking up a vial of one of the potion ingredients and raised it, but before he followed his impulse of throwing it against the classroom wall he stopped himself. Anger. He had been momentary blinded with anger. He closed his eyes forcing his respirations to return to their normal slow pace. As he pictured his anger leaving with each exhaled breath while silently reciting potion ingredients alphabetically.

After reaching the C's Severus reevaluated his emotional state. The anger that had flooded his senses had ebbed away as he had performed his calming exercises. He slowly placed the vial back to the old teacher's table; purposely not looking up at the haze that was still floating in the air only a few inches from him.

He mentally went over his steps of brewing the potion looking for any errors on his part, but he knew he had made none. After all the potion had displayed the expected response of a puff of purple haze before forming the medium for which to see the image of his soulmate by. Severus took one more steadying breath and looked back up to the floating vision of the girl.

This time he surveyed her and studied her appearance. The main physical characteristics that had told him that this was not Lily were still there, but now he also saw that she wore a school robe, a hat, and carried a pile of four books in front of her. Her school robe was similar to Hogwarts but unlike Hogwarts, it showed no highlight of color at its helm, and it appeared to be a pull-over. No underlying uniform was visible. The hat was identical to the hats that he had to wear during the special feasts and holidays. How he disliked those hats.

The books were held with the cover of the one foremost facing him. That volume looked like a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ , he should know he had a copy himself. The Hogwarts' School Crest proudly embedded into it.

Then the apparition shifted her hold on her bundle of books and brought up one hand to wave at him as she smiled faintly before she began to fade out.

"Wait! Please," Severus called out to the apparition. To his surprise, he did not want to see her go. Not yet. The apparition paused and nodded her head for Severus to continue. He knew that what he was doing was silly, but he needed to know. After all the book had said that the brewer could ask one question from the image and that the answer would be based on the real person's experiences and reasoning.

"Could you love me?" He asked, his voice shaky and only slightly above a whisper. Severus watched as the girl frowned for a moment and cocked her head studying him with her eyes. Severus resisted the urge to shift his feet under the intensity of her examining gaze. After what seemed like an eternity for Severus – although in all reality were but a few seconds – the image of the girl grinned and nodded her head once before disappearing from his view.

Severus stood there in the old classroom not moving for several minutes after the apparition had answered his questioned pondering over the emotions that were raging inside him. He didn't know quite what he should feel, but he felt... dare he say it? Happy? Hopeful?

He had a soulmate somewhere. A soulmate that _could_ love him. Him! The boy with the mismatched clothes. The boy with the crooked nose and terrible hair.

It hadn't been Lily like he had expected, but to his chagrin, he wasn't as disappointed as he thought he would be at that revelation. Sure he had been angered at first, but if he was completely honest with himself, it wasn't because it had been an image of another girl. No, he was angered at messing up the potion and that his fantasy life that he had always envisioned was just that, a fantasy.

His heart would still lurch painfully downward, heavy with remorse whenever he thought of how he caused his first friendship to end before it really began, that alone told him he had feelings towards the red haired, green eyed girl; but in comparison with how his heart had done a somersault when the apparition nodded yes to his question… well, it just didn't compare really. Not yet. He would need some more data before he could honestly evaluate the two, but he did know he enjoyed the pleasant mood that had descended on him.

Snapping himself out of his silent reverie he retrieved his wand from the floor and began cleaning up his secret brewing station. Tomorrow would be the start of the summer holidays and during them he would brew the third and final step to the three-part potion. The one which would bring his soulmate to him. That thought stayed with him as he packed his trunks and even invaded his dreams as he dreamed of a bright eyed, bushy haired girl.


	2. Chapter 2

"Kitten, you have been in here so long. Why not come down and watch the telly?" Jean Granger asked as she walked into her daughter's private study and library. The small space littered with assorted reference books, both magical and non-magical in content, had once been a guest room but ever since Hermione's acceptance letter Jean and her husband had given it over to Hermione. Citing that one should not be kept locked away, hunched over books in one's bedroom all day. Within hours Hermione had transferred her stack of books and piles of notes from her small bedside desk to the old large desk and the two built in bookcases beside it. Her modest collection at the time occupying one shelf. Now five years later almost all the shelves on both cases were filled. With titles ranging from previous, current and future school text, wizarding and muggle references, books on loan from Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and two books from Madam Pomfrey concerning basic first aid, to bound volumes of past issues of the Daily Prophet and another wizarding paper, that had collapsed during the first war; the Nightclad*. Both papers having been retrieved by Mr. Weasley through the newspaper archives at the Ministry and sent to her via owl.

"Hmm?" Hermione hummed as she turned another page. A moving image of professional Quidditch players scoring greeted her before she flipped to the next page. Her eyes busily scanning headlines for anything that might be useful.

"Hermione," Jean sighed as she pulled up a chair to join her daughter, waiting a moment before she gently closed the book.

"Mum? When did you come in?"

Jean shook her head. Hermione's puzzlement of discovering that her mother had joined her made Jean smile. She used to do the same thing in university.

"A few minutes ago. You still have a few weeks before classes begin, surly you don't need to devour all of that magical knowledge now. Come down and watch The Phantom with us."

Hermione smiled, albeit weakly. The Phantom of the Opera was one of her favorite musicals, but she was just not in the mood to enjoy it. Not now. Hiding from one's own daemons and shortcomings would kill any possible enjoyment watching the classic musical would bring. That much she was sure of.

"I would but at the moment I need to finish this thought. I'll try to join you later." Hermione replied as she stood and stretched. She needed to switch books. It was only so much Daily Prophet she could stomach at one time, and she hadn't even began fingering through issues of Nightclad yet.

Jean watched her daughter collect another book and resume her place at the desk. She could tell that something was bothering her, but every time she had tried to ask what it was that had clearly dampened Hermione's usually cheerful mood, she was met with denial and resistance. She had to thrust Hermione to tell her when she wanted to and not force it out of her.

"Okay kitten," Jean stood and kissed the top of Hermione's head, "don't work yourself too thin now."

Hermione nodded and muttered a quick, "I won't," before opening the enchanted book that held the last five years of issues for the now defunct Nightclad. The desire to know what she and her friends were truly up against drove her to scan page after page for mentions, articles, anything about the First Wizarding War.

She had not thought of during this before. Of reading old newspapers for any hints or clues concerning Voldemort or his Death Eaters. She had, and still did to some extent, trusted the adults, the professors, to handle this. Now four years with Harry and Ron and she knew that Harry would not just sit back and let the grown-ups handle things, and she couldn't really blame him. It was personal for him. He had been orphaned and grew up where he had to fend for himself. Not to mention being targeted repeatedly since entering the wizarding world.

She needed to be prepared and, by golly, she was going to be.

If she stopped and was completely honest with herself her maddening thirst to be prepared, to study the last war, was due to that bizarre dream she had the night before leaving on summer hols.

In it she had somehow went back through time to the middle of the First Wizarding War. When Harry's parents were still in school as well as Professor Lupin and Sirius. It was very disorienting, but what got her wasn't the surrealness of the dream. Oh no, it was that her dream self couldn't give any vital information to the younger dream version of Professor Dumbledore. She couldn't stop Voldemort or any of the terrible deaths that came from his orders, or by his own evil hands.

She had criticized herself when she had awoken, of course. The dream was just that, a dream, and she knew that one shouldn't even dare think of changing the past much less actively try to. Willfully changing the past would break several time travel laws and rules. Not to mention creating paradoxes that would cause Merlin himself a headache to untangle. But, even with knowing she shouldn't, couldn't hadn't stopped her from _wanting_ to find out everything she could concerning 70's Wizarding Britain. If only to stop her damnable inner voice whispering ominously that, _those who fail to learn history were doomed to repeat it._

She had mentally kicked herself repeatedly during the last couple of weeks for not doing this sooner. When Voldemort was still more a glorified spirit seeking a host instead of the horrors he and his servants had done a few weeks prior to bring him once more into a corporeal state.

She also acknowledged that in all truth she was hiding from her inner demons instead of facing them. She had tried facing them in the following hours after the leaving fest, but had just felt too numb. Too in shock to really do anything. Her analytic mind could still summarize the hellish and long year though. She had allowed herself to be swayed by romantic notations, distracted by rallying for house-elves' rights which even themselves did not want, been mediator between Harry and Ron, helped Harry with preparing for the tasks, and had still in the end let Harry down.

She had not looked at everything with a logical mindset. The last three years should have told her that Voldemort or his followers would try something dramatic and drastically to kill Harry, or reinstate He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She had just assumed that it had been the former with the Triwizards Tournament and not both. She had been a fool. She hadn't put the pieces together when it could how helped save Cedric and prevent Voldemort from rising again.

She was living in dark times alright, but what tore at her soul was the promise that darker times were just over the horizon. Not just for Harry, her friends or herself, but for everyone. The headmaster's words echoed softly in her mind. _Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy..._

Hermione shook herself from the memory. It would not due to cry. She had research and reading that had to be done, she reminded herself as she swiped a tear away. Squaring her shoulders she began reading an article that had caught her eye. Declaring how muggle-borns could not be detected by use of any known charm or hex. It was surprisingly unbiased, unlike another newspaper she could name, and posed some interesting questions.

Re-inking her quill she began writing her thoughts about it and noting possible things to research further, as she read the article through once more. While humming along to the opening bars of The Phantom of the Opera which were slowly drifting up from downstairs. Unaware of a growing, twirling mist beginning to envelope the small room.

Hermione huffed as her hair began to fall forward on its own. Obscuring her vision. Crookshanks uttered a fierce growl before leaping off the desk and running out of the room. The door closing itself after him.

"Crookshanks? What has gotten into you boy?" Hermione asked absently as she tied her hair up and away from her face. Frowning when the book before began to flip pages by itself. "That's odd..."

Had someone brought a fan up here, she mentally asked as she stopped the pages from dancing hurriedly past her. Drawing the book up to her she turned around, and gasped as she allowed the book to fall from her fingers. Quickly recovering from her shock she leaped to her feet and reached for her wand, forgetting that she had placed it on her nightstand in the next room. A fail-safe measure to keep her from performing underage magic, since it was summer and no underage magic was allowed outside of Hogwarts.

Deciding that Crookshanks might have been correct to flee, she ran towards the door, but just as she was reaching the threshold it slammed shut. She cried out. What was happening? Grabbing the doorknob she pushed and pulled but the door refused to budge. It was like it had been locked. Slowly turning around she froze, mouth agape. The moderate mist was now a heavy fog. Obscuring the walls and furniture. It was also unnaturally silent. The usual ticking of the clock was absent and, although she knew that her books on the desk were madly flipping pages, there wasn't any sound of paper rustling.

Hermione's heart felt like it had transplanted itself from her chest to her throat as she saw the fog sparkle and transform into a whirlwind. A lone paperback flew around the room. Riding the wind. Snapping out of her temporary daze she wished again that she had her wand, regardless of the rules, and made herself call out to her parents.

"Mum! Dad! Help!" she managed to scream while dodging two books as they flew by. This was getting serious fast. Taking comfort that she was able to hear her parents shouts of acknowledgement and that they were coming. "Get my wand please! Its by my bed!"

"What's wrong?!" Jean asked worriedly as she tried to open the door. "Hermione?"

"I don't kno-" Hermione was cut off as she was forcefully moved by the wind backwards into the door, hard. Rattling it. She didn't have any time to recover or duck as three books slammed into her in rapid succession. The last successfully knocking her unconscious.

"Hermione? Hermione!" Jean demanded twisting the doorknob and cursing the door that was blocking her from getting to her daughter. Turning she called for her husband, "Robert!"

"I got it," he huffed as he ran from Hermione's room, her wand in his hand.

"The door won't give and," she paused, fear shining in her brown eyes, "and she isn't talking anymore. I, I can't hear her, Robert."

Robert tried the door once before ordering Hermione to stand back, he did not dwell on his escalating fear. Taking a step back he kicked the door in. Splintering it as he freed it from the lock.

"Hermione," Jean and Robert called out in unison as they rushed in. Their hurriedly scanned the chaos before them for any sign of Hermione. Books laid together in disarray piles, dotting the width of the room, the bookcases were toppled, and various papers were scattered amidst the rubble.

"Oh God, Robert you don't think..." Jean trailed off as she looked at the down bookcases.

Robert went directly to one and began righting it. "She has to be."

"Hermione," Jean called as she joined her husband. Helping him move the bookcase upright and off the mountain of books that had been under it. They both continued to call out to their daughter as they dug through the debris around them. Both silently repeating to themselves that she had to be there. Had to be alright. She just had to be. But, there wasn't any sign of her to be found.

She hadn't been under the bookcases, or piles of books, or seeking shelter under her desk. The window was still closed and firmly locked, so she hadn't escaped through it. She had just vanished without a trace to who could have taken her or what had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Nightclad is my creation and is not part of the canon. With that being said, the publication was originally called Skyclad Nightly, with the aptly put tagline - Nothing but the Naked Truth - and was a daily evening newspaper. As the centuries went on, however, the name got shortened to simply, Nightclad: alluding to both its honest journalism and midnight delivery.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Hermione felt as she slowly regained consciousness was the hard, cold stone floor under her. Stone floors was a type of flooring her parents didn't have, thus before she even opened her eyes, she instinctively knew she couldn't be home. That she was someplace else. Someplace bright.

Shielding her eyes from the onslaught of sunlight beaming through the tall windows beside her, she sat up and scanned her surroundings trying to determine where she had been taken to. The room had a thick layer of dust that covered the rows of school desks and the floor. Cobwebs also hang from the corners of the room and from several desks.

She pushed herself up and off the floor, and made her way to the windows. Thankful that she had become accustomed to the bright sunlight that illuminated the old, unused classroom, she looked out the windows and frowned.

"So, I _am_ back at Hogwarts," she breathed as she saw the Forbidden Forrest and the Black lake below.

How had she gotten back here? And, why?

Gradually, as she ventured over to the only place that looked remarkably clear of dust – the teacher's desk, the memory of the mysterious twirling fog that had materialized around her while she read old headlines came rushing back to her.

What in the name of Merlin happened to her to cause her to be transported to Hogwarts, bypassing all the security wards that prevented apparition, and into a classroom that clearly hadn't been used in generations?

From her advance self-studies she was confident that it wasn't apparition, and she knew it hadn't been a portkey. So what did that leave? She had no idea, and that concerned her. Thoughts of being a target of some Dark spell or curse raced through her mind as she absently dusted herself off. She had to see Professor Dumbledore. He had to be told what had happened.

Cautiously she exited the classroom and tried to ascertain what corridor she was now in. The tapestries, statures and portraits all looked foreign to her. Sighing, she turned left and began walking. Hoping that she would, sooner or later, run across a stairway or landmark that would help her grasp where she was and from there, how to get to Professor Dumbledore or McGonagall.

After several minutes without finding anything familiar, Hermione was grateful to see two ghosts strolling past her in a connecting corridor.

"Excuse me," she called out as she walked swiftly towards the couple, "I appear to have gotten turned around. Where are we?"

The two specters stopped and stared at her. Astonishment written on both of their faces.

"Why Reginald," said the lady ghost, "has the term started already?" she paused, "I hadn't heard that whistle."

"It hasn't," Reginald shook his head and drifted closer to Hermione, who took a step back, his eyes studying her closely. "Who are you witch?"

"I'm Hermione Granger." She automatically replied not liking his tone.

"Hogwarts isn't open for summer dear," the lady ghost provided joining Reginald, turning to him she asked, "is even Professors Dumbledore in?"

"Knowing that fool of a Gryffindor headmaster, yes."

"Professor Dumbledore isn't a fool."

"Know him do you?"

"Of course," Reginald's eyebrows rose high, almost touching his hairline, and Hermione hurriedly elaborated, "I am a student here."

"Oh?" the lady ghost asked surprised, "That's queer. I don't remember your sorting."

"What House are you in?"

"Reginald! Manners." the lady ghost rebuked her companion. "Houses are not the end all to be all. Hogwarts as a whole is our alma mater."

Reginald scowled but floated back away from Hermione to a more socially recognized distance.

"We shall escort you to the offices," the lady ghost announced suddenly.

"No thank you. That shouldn't be necessary. I do know how to get there." Hermione did not want to spend any more time with the two ghosts. It was one thing not to recognize a couple of ghosts. Hogwarts was home to several hundred spirits after all, but, for them not to recognize her left her feeling uneasy. "I just got lost. . . What corridor are we in, again?"

"The Eighth-floor corridor."

"Eighth?" Hermione asked taken aback by the lady ghost's statement, "but Hogwarts doesn't have an eighth floor."

Reginald smirked. "I believe you will find that it does, Miss Granger. Most _students_ do know that."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue and stopped. She really didn't have time for this. The ghosts were either mistaken or trying to pull her leg. She was sure she could find her way without their help.

After a tense farewell and another hasty reassurance from Hermione that she did know the way and that she would be fine, she resumed walking again. Checking for any signs of a stairwell as she went.

Thankfully she found one after turning a corner and was able to get back to a familiar corridor. From there it was a short journey to Professor McGonagall's and Professor Dumbledore's offices, they both sharing a common corridor, and in minutes she was knocking on her Head of House's office door.

She doubted that Professor McGonagall would be in but one had to follow the proper chain of command, or at least try to. Professor Dumbledore would hopefully be in. If both were not then she would just have to go visit Hagrid.

Just as Hermione was departing from McGonagall's door she was surprised to hear a muffled, come in, through the closed door. Apparently there had been some tasks she had to see to. She was Deputy Headmistress after all.

"Professor," Hermione began as she opened the door, "something has happened."

McGonagall looked up from her paperwork and frowned. "How did you get here, child?"

"I don't fully know. One minute I was studying and the next a whirlwind of fog formed in my room. I hit the wall or the door can't remember which, then I must have fallen unconscious because the next thing I knew I was waking up back here. How long I was out I don't know." she paused as an appalling thought occurred to her. "Have you heard from my parents Professor? Are they okay? Nothing has happened to them has it?"

McGonagall's frown deepened and she stood. "We need to talk to Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Follow me."

Hermione blinked as she followed her Head Professor. While that had not been the reassuring words she had been hoping for she also knew that her presence could signify several potential horrors, especially since Voldemort had fully returned, and she knew that the Headmaster had to be informed. He was one of the few wizards that Voldemort feared, and for good reason. Dumbledore was a very powerful, clever and learned wizard.

"Albus," McGonagall began, successfully snapping Hermione out of her inner musings, as they entered Dumbledore's office.

"Minerva," the Headmaster returned as he leaned back from his desk and observed his two guests.

"You need to hear this," McGonagall informed him before motioning for Hermione to tell her story, "go ahead."

Hermione took her seat and explained what had happened to her. Making sure to describe the fog whirlwind as accurately as possible. "… and then I woke up here. Headmaster, have you heard anything from my parents? Is Harry and Ronald alright?"

"Who are your parents?"

Hermione frowned. That was a peculiar question. "Why, Robert and Jean Granger."

"And, Harry and Ronald, are your brothers?"

She drew back, startled. "No sir," she dragged out slowly. Was this some elaborate joke? "What is going on, sir?"

"I wish I knew Miss Granger," he paused, "when did this whirlwind happen?"

"Just now. Today."

"What is today's date?"

"Thursday, 13 July, 1995."

McGonagall spluttered and Dumbledore blinked. Hermione paled. She must have been knocked for a loop. At least the term hadn't started yet. She couldn't have been out for too long. "How long was I out for, sir?"

"Minus nineteen years."

"Nineteen years?!" She must have misheard. "I slept through nineteen years?"

"Minus."

"I'm sorry sir, but this isn't making any sense. What do you mean _minus_ nineteen years?"

"Today is Tuesday, July 13," he paused, "1976."

Hermione shook her head. "That's impossible. Simply impossible. The furthest anyone can travel back in time is five hours.* Not nineteen years."

"Apparently not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The five-hour limit on Time-Turners haven't always been present but only one case of extremely lengthy time travel has been recorded in the wizarding world. In 1899, Unspeakable Eloise Mintumble, traveled back almost 500 years to 1402. 
> 
> Then, of course, there is the Cursed Child Universe and it's dealings with Time-Turners but this was written and posted before the script book of HPCC release in 2016, but even then Eloise Mintumble still holds the record for the longest amount of time travel achieved in the Wizarding World at this time.


	4. Chapter 4

"You are a Prince, sixteen and, I would have presumed before today, intelligent. What you just did was on bar with what Gryffindors do, not Slytherins." Elizabeth Prince paused as she sent her nephew, Severus, his cup of tea. It was a tad early for tea time, but after what had just happened mere moments before with a mysterious whirlwind and catching her nephew doing underage magic, she needed a good strong cup of tea.

"You have acted quite foolishly today. If I didn't know you and if you were not my sister's son I would assume you were a dunderhead." She sighed and took another sip of her tea.

Soberly Severus sat and silently listened to his aunt his gaze fixed on his tea cup as she continued on with her lecture about the evils and foolishness of performing underage magic outside of Hogwarts. The old familiar wizarding pattern depicted an enchanted colony of bats that were attuned to the lunar and solar cycles. It had been one of his favorite tea sets as a child. Its magic and cheerful animation had always fascinated him to no end back before Hogwarts, and made him proud of his heritage. The bat was the Prince family spirit animal and main emblem after all.

Now he hated the old tea set and the enchanted bats or any bats for that matter. They all served as a reminder of that foolish moniker Black had coined. Just one of the many silly nicknames from school he had been saddled with.

"Although," Elizabeth broke the silence that Severus had not noticed had fallen. He automatically placed his cup back down on its saucer and looked up, awaiting his aunt's judgement. He blinked. Instead of the stern frown that usually marred his aunt's and mother's features whenever he had done something that displeased them, there was a small smirk. Did that mean his aunt was secretly pleased?

"There may be some Prince smarts in that skull of yours after all. With you using your grandfather's wand instead of yours. It is no doubt the only reason why we had not been invaded by the Ministry's lackeys and you being hauled away to stand before the Wizengamot."

Severus couldn't help but return his aunt's smirk with one of his own. She may not have been pleased, Severus amended silently, but she did find his foresight of bypassing the trace and notification charm on his wand by using his grandfather's. It of course didn't feel as natural or readily willing to obey his commands as his own wand, but it still recognized him and his magic.

"You will, of course, tell you mother when she comes home all about this."

Severus' face fell ever so slightly. He had secretly hoped that he wouldn't have to tell his mother. That aunt Elizabeth would. He hated causing his mother any displeasure – she had had enough of both displeasure and emotional pain for a lifetime already.

"Now after that cup of tea I expect you to go back up to the attic and clean up the mess you made, without any magic, and before your mother returns from her charity work."

Severus nodded, downed the remainder of his tea, and made his way up to the century old attic he had used as a make-shift potion station since his twelfth birthday.

He was both thankful and relieved that his aunt had bought his lie that he had been brewing an advance potion in preparation for his NEWT-level potions beginning in September, but he had acted like a fool. He had desperately wanted to finish that third and final part of the potion but yet he hadn't taken into consideration the intensity of the manor's copious wards or the tendency of his aunt to regularly check up on him. A lapse in foresight that might have ruined everything.

He could not even begin to imagine what her reaction would have been if she known that he had been secretly brewing a potion that would bring his soul-mate to him. It was probably safe to assume that he wouldn't have been let off the hook so easily if she had. Soul-mates were a magical rarity and sacred. It was safe to say that forcing your soul-mate to come to you was not considered friendly. It wasn't Dark Magic but it was definitely within the grey area between Light and Dark.

With a sigh he began righting the turned crates, shelves, and the old doors he used as work tables. As he went about moving and sorting he pondered over what had happened.

If one listened to Elizabeth she had managed to save him from being pulled into a deadly whirlwind and from being taken into custody for using underage magic while outside of Hogwarts.

He, on the other hand, had not seen the whirlwind as deadly, or dangerous. It had developed from his cauldron and, even though it had grown to touch the ten foot ceiling and its wind had reached a feverous pitch, the flying debris just danced around him. He had been in the center of it all and he had been safe.

He also thought he had seen a form of a girl, one that looked a lot like the one from the potion weeks ago, begin to flicker into reality before him in the mist. He had just touched her shoulder when his aunt had shouted and cast a myriad of counter curses and protective charms at the whirling wind and him.

He flexed his fingers and smiled as he remembered the soft texture of her jumper and the silk tangle of curls that his fingers had momentarily brushed.

Aunt Elizabeth had told him what had happened next: he had shouted no and had fumbled to grab hold of something for safety before a number 2 sized copper cauldron collided with his head. What she did not know was that he had silently pleaded for the girl to stay and for his aunt to stop interfering. Now he had lost the girl and had been knocked out.

He had been so close. If only he hadn't forgotten to lock the blasted door.

After everything had been cleared, righted and replaced Severus allowed a sigh to escape and he reached for the old batted text and read through the instructions and comments surrounding the Soul-Mate Elixir once more. It had at one time, no doubt, a more elaborate name then that, but with age and generations of being poorly handled the faded ink and tiny tares in the parchment had obscured its original name. In fact, the whole text itself was riddled with lacunae and if he had not known advance potion theory or had been well versed in elemental magic harmony principals, he would not have been able to brew any of the elixir much less all three parts.

"There are ... soul-mates ... beyond the limitations of ... " Severus frowned as he continued scanning over the following lines. He paused when he found the last line: "Once started you must finish... then your efforts are in vain, Once completed ... cannot be redone."

The last phrase echoed ominously around him. Threatening to engulf him.

_Once completed it cannot be redone._

Damn. Damn his foolish self for not locking the bloody door and damn his aunt for sticking her nose into something that did not concern her.

He snapped the book closed and tossed it out the window. It was completely useless now. He had failed. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

McGonagall finally found her voice as Dumbledore rang for tea. "Nineteen years," she trailed off before shaking herself, "how old are you, Miss Granger?"

"Fifteen, Professor," Hermione replied automatically.

"Poor lass's not even born yet," McGonagall whispered her dismay to the Headmaster who nodded and hummed his pursed lips being the only physical clue that he was deep in thought as a floating tea service came into the office and hovered between Hermione and the two professors.

"Miss Granger this is a most singular occurrence." Dumbledore began as the tea service began to self-pour three cups. "The threat of possible paradoxes and rewriting not just your present's past but a generation of magical and non-magical persons is highly real." he paused as Hermione accepted a floating cup of tea. "The magical whirlwind that you encountered before waking up here in the past is something I must confess to never hearing about before this..." he trailed off.

Hermione closed her eyes knowing what Professor Dumbledore was implying. If they couldn't find the source spell that sent her nineteen years back in time then it was highly probable that they will not be able to reverse or counter the spell and send her back to her time. She silently prayed a small prayer that she wouldn't be stuck here. Effectively losing nineteen years. She took a big sip of her tea.

"If it had been a Time-Turner accident, although unlikely since you're only fifteen," Hermione offered a small smile instead of correcting the Headmaster that she had been trained and had reliably used a Time-Turner during her third year. "then this would be not as troubling."

Hermione's brows rose. "Time-Turner accidents happen that regularly?"

"No, but there are protocols and measures one could follow that might send you back to your time."

Might? Hermione's brows furrowed. "Is that even possible? I thought a Time-Turner only went back never forward. 'I've yet to outrun the sun.'"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled and his lips curled upwards. "I take it you have read into Time-Turners before this. Good. Good. Yes, the Time-Turner itself doesn't but some have been able to be pulled back to their present with a complex combination of recalling and summoning charms."

Hermione mentally filed that useful bit of information away for later and sipped her tea. She did not miss the shared look between the two professors.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore began, his eyes devoid of twinkle denoting the serious nature of his next words. "we will have to notify the Ministry," Hermione's eyes widen in surprise. "it will be kept confidential, of course. There is a department designed and run for similar cases like yours." he paused as he took a drink of his tea. "The Department of Mysteries."

Hermione simply nodded and forced herself not to grip her cup too tightly. The fear of being caught breaking the rules, even when it was thrust upon her, was still hard to ignore. Rules were made for a reason. It usually benefited those who followed them.

"Now there is also the matter of housing, food, medical care, and schooling," McGonagall stated.

A mental image featuring the American musical, "Annie", Municipal Girls Orphanage with her as one of its charges, scrubbing and mopping the floors in rags and her hair in full bush-mode. The scary image made her mouth go dry. "Please," she paused and swallowed, "I would rather not go to any orphanage. The fewer interactions with others the better." She hurriedly explained.

"Orphanage? Miss Granger in the Wizarding World we don't use orphanages." McGongall corrected her sharp eyes softening ever so slightly. "We use sponsors: Wizarding families that agree to take in orphaned students and provide a family environment."

Hermione blinked. "Oh, I see." her fears of scrubbing ancient floors with a dozen other teens her age was replaced with one of the horrors of Harry's 'family' sponsors, the vile Dursleys. Maybe she could run away and ... what? Join the Muggle circus? She had no other option but stay and do her best.

"We need a plausible story for your sudden appearance here. For your sponsor family and anyone else not privy to your true origins."

Hermione forced a polite smile and nodded briskly at Dumbledore's statement.

"I could be from Naples, France and have been privately tutored or attended Beauxbatons." Hermione offered when the silence began to be too much for her amidst the ticking and clanking of the various baubles and trinkets.

Dumbledore's brows rose slightly. "Do you speak adequate French, Miss Granger?"

Hermione grinned and straightened her already staight posture before quoting from one of her favorite French text. *"Des caractères! qui te parle de caractères, malheureux Axel! Il s'agit bien de caractères! Ah! tu prends cela pour un imprimé! Mais, ignorant, c'est un manuscrit, et un manuscrit runique!"

"Well recited Miss Granger but a quote, even from a master novelist such as Vern, does not make your French. There are too many students that speak fluent French and have family connections in and around Franch. No, it cannot do." He paused briefly before snapping his fingers. "Ilvermorny."

Hermione blinked. "Ilvermorny?"

"Our American sister school of magic."

"America?" Hermione asked again as she placed her empty tea cup down. "The states?"

"Yes," Dumbledore accepted a second cup of tea and stirred it as he elaborated. "Unlike Franch and its close proximity to Scotland and its Wizarding society circles close familiar ties with Wizarding Britain society, America is further removed from both a geographical and magical societal connections. Also, I am on friendly terms with Ilvermorny's Headmistress, Olivia Jones-" McGonagall muttered something Hermione couldn't catch while Dumbledore continued on, choosing to ignore McGonagall's comment. " - I might be able to make certain that her records reflect that your fictionalized parents refused Ilvermorny and home schooled you extensively by private tutors."

Hermione frowned. "But sir, I have never been to the States, my accent is decidedly British, and I have no knowledge of Ilvermorny. Where it is located, how it came about, or what they offer academically."

"I know of some books that I can give you that should handle the first and last objection, and luckily, there is a handy translation charm that can modify one's accent to any desired accent, with the exception of Mermish."

Hermione frown lessened slightly. "What about my name, professor?"

"What about it?"

"Don't I need to change it?" she finally accepted the second cup of tea following its third attempt to regain her attention. Who knew that tea services could be so demanding?

"It is not wise to take an alias when you're a witch," McGonagall interjected when she saw the beginnings of a twinkle form in Albus's eyes. "Hogwarts' renown Book of Admittance would not acknowledge your alias nor would the sorting. Any official Ministry documentation or missives would also ignore any assumed aliases and declare your true, given name."

"Oh, I see."

"It is old magic and just us three deciding to call you Hermione Gadberry or whathaveyou will not be enough to change the magical records of your name. You would have to get official approval to change your name from the Wizengamot itself."

Dumbledore's eyes resumed their twinkle. "It is a real pleasure to meet you, Miss Hermione Gadberry."

"Albus," McGonagall warned.

"It did have such a nice ring to it didn't, Miss Granger? Such a shame we won't be using it after all." Dumbledore gave a small, playful wink as he unwrapped a butterscotch candy. "Care for a butterscotch candy, Miss Gadberry? It goes quite splendidly with tea."

Despite her predicament Hermione found herself returning the headmaster's smile and accepting a butterscotch candy. She didn't usually eat sweets, she was the child of two dentists, but she appreciated the offer and the thought.

"We have decided on a country of origin for Miss Gad-Granger," McGonagall corrected herself, ignoring Dumbledore's amused twinkle and grin. "which is all well and good Albus, but how about her new history and matter of a sponsor family - not to mention contacting the Ministry?"

"Quite right Minerva. Professional as ever." Dumbledore sent his teacup back to the waiting service. "Miss Granger if you could wait here while I and Professor McGonagall talk?"

"Of course, sir."

Nodding his head Dumbledore cast a strong silencing charm around himself and McGonagall. Hermione wished she had learned how to lip-read as she watched the two professors debating and discussing her fate. She watched as Fawkes was sent off holding a missive, no doubt concerning her, to the Ministry. Harry's awe about Fawkes and his accounts of his rescue from the Salazar's Chamber had not been exaggerated. It was a sight that was quite breathtaking and unique to see a phoenix fly with an envelope grasped in its talons.

After accepting her third cup of tea, the enchanted tea service was truly irksome, she began to really examine her surroundings and professors more closely. She could now see - if she was perfectly honest with herself - differences and nuances that should have clued her into the possibility of time travel sooner. After all, she had read and had taken a correspondence course in time manipulation and time travel principles during the summer between her second and third year. It had been a non-negotiable prerequisite one had to complete before one could be entrusted with a Time-Turner.

Dumbledore was still grey-haired, his bread was not as long, however, and still clung to a few stubborn remnants of auburn. His blue eyes were the same and still tended to twinkle on occasion. His robes were more subdued, more of a traditional dark blue with hand-stitched embellishment and various arcane symbols on his sleeves.

McGonagall was tall and stern as she was in Hermione's own time but her black hair didn't have a hint of gray and there were fewer wrinkles lining her face.

Nineteen years and war had no doubt had its toll on both professors.

Nineteen years, Hermione repeated silently as she took another drink of her tea, she was in 1976.

1976!

Harry's parents were still alive and students about to return for their sixth year in a few weeks time. In fact, many people were still alive and quite young, and - she paused as she gently placed her teacup and saucer back onto the floating tea service before her - all her friends and classmates hadn't been born yet. She wasn't even born yet herself.

She could unwrite or rewrite her entire present - something that was highly dangerous. The consequences of trying to or changing the past when only going back 5 hours were dire and disastrous. She could only guess at the consequences of modifying something outside of her own lifeline and, she paused as she quickly did the calculation, roughly 166,440 hours in the past!

She was going to create a paradox somehow that much she was certain of. The odds were not in her favor and now she just prayed she didn't also cause the whole universe to implode upon itself before this was all done.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Quotation from a genuine Jules Vern work in the original French. Bonus points and a free cookie if you recognize which title it comes from.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks and a big shout out to Tiggs (whitetiger91) over on FFN for helping me focus enough to write this chapter. 
> 
> This chapter and the rest probably wouldn't have been written anytime soon or even ever without you. Thank you!

 

 

Unspeakable Matthew Mainwaring was awakened from his lazy afternoon nap by a rapid taping at his window.

"What now?" he mumbled as he strode to the window and threw back the curtain and groaned. It was Fawkes, his old schoolmate's pet familiar.

"This won't be good," Mainwaring concluded before opening the window and accepting the small robin's blue envelope from the phoenix. Whenever Fawkes appeared, especially with a note in its powerful talons, trouble, and possible mayhem wasn't too far behind.

What little sleep that still clung to the Unspeakable evaporated as he read the note:

"My friend, A Miss Hermione Granger, a young witch about fourteen or fifteen, has come to me today with a most peculiar account of how she got here.

As outlandish as it may sound, Mainwaring, Miss Granger claims to come from the future. Nineteen years to be exact.

And, to further complicate matters, no Time-turners were utilized. Just a whirlwind.

We await your arrival in my office.  
Albus Dumbledore  
Headmaster  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
Scotland, UK"

Yep, trouble, and mayhem all right.

A time incident had occurred.

A time traveler had appeared in Hogwarts.

"Time to call, Crabtree,"he smirked. At least there was one bright thing to all of this: the prospect of annoying his boss.

He enjoyed bothering his supervisor and something of this magnitude would definitely do so.

Picking up a handful of Floo powder he placed the call. Not caring that he boasted a huge impish grin as he greeted his supervisor, an incompetent fool of a man thirty years his junior.

"Hello, Crabtree."

"Hello? Mainwaring? Why are you calling me on your day off?" He demanded.

"We have a time indecent."

Crabtree swore a colorful exploitive. "Where?"

"Hogwarts."

Mainwaring's grin momentary flickered into a smirk upon hearing Crabtree exclaim a series of profanities. It was always entertaining to see the usual straight-laced and tight-lipped man lose it. Mainwaring had picked up quite a few choice words from the man doing moments like this.

"That's the third time this century a time incident has occurred there, and there has been rumored incidences throughout the past centuries. The whole bloody castle must be a blasted time anomaly!" Crabtree punched his nose as he tried to reclaim his composure. "You know the procedure and I expect a full written and pensive report on my desk by Thursday."

Crabtree disconnected the call before Mainwaring could inform him that it wasn't another Time-turner accident. Oh well, it wasn't like he hadn't tried to tell his boss.

He'll follow the procedure but not the one Crabtree erroneously assumed it would be. His reports will explain everything. Too bad Crabtree never read or viewed them.

He shrugged it off, it wasn't his fault and grabbed another handful of Floo powder. He had to call St Mungo's and alert them that he would be bringing in a "canary yellow patient" shortly. A secretive code that only a select few of healers, nurses, and hospital administrators - sworn by a vow of secrecy on their magic - knew the true implications and truth behind the seemingly pleasant code: a time lost patient.

After finishing replying his message to the nurse, he summoned his traveling cloak and apparated to Hogsmeade. He had an appointment with a Miss Granger and he mustn't be late.

* * *

Hermione had just taken a bite from her lemon drizzled biscuit, the enchanted tea service might have been out of tea but it still had various confectioneries to panhandle to anyone nearby, when the Headmaster's office's fireplace roared into green flames and a cloaked man emerged.

"Ah, Mainwaring dramatic as ever I see," Professor Dumbledore greeted as he stood and beckoned the newcomer closer.

"Dumbledore," Mainwaring replied as he lowered his hood.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione and motioned between her and Mainwaring. "Miss Granger this is Unspeakable Mainwaring."

"He will be your Ministry contact while you're here," McGonagall furthered explained as Mainwaring took the chair beside Hermione and denied a raspberry tart from the floating tea service.

" I will be your educational contact and Professor McGonagall will be your housing contact who will find an appropriate sponsor family on your behalf."

Upon seeing Hermione's worried expression Dumbledore added, "you are not alone, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, sir."

The Headmaster returned her timid smile with a reassuring one of his own and nodded. Empathy and understanding radiating from his blue eyes.

"Miss Granger," Hermione turned her attention back to the Unspeakable beside her. He was around Dumbledore's age, with white hair and a finely trimmed goatee. "if you would be so kind to start from the beginning with how you ended here, in the past, without going into anything that could adversely affect the timeline any more than it has been by this. I'll also be requiring a memory simple. To be further analyzed and securely stored within the Ministry afterward."

Hermione frowned. Uncertain how she felt about having any portion of her memories studied and kept locked away inside the Ministry. Memories were so... well, private and personal. Yes, she had read about extracting, storing and even unwanted invasion of memories and thoughts but that was still more abstract theory than fact.

Or it had been last month.

"The sooner we find exactly how you were sent back here the better for you and everyone. We can't send you forward to your time till we know more." Mainwaring must have sensed Hermione's uncertainty for he offered a friendly smile. "One has to know what type of course before one can break it."

"Of course," she quickly agreed. She couldn't find any fault in his reasoning. It was quite all logical, really.

It didn't quiet any of her unease but then again she felt she wouldn't be truly at ease again, not till she was back home.

"I was at home with my mum and dad studying-"

"The date?"

"Oh, yes. It was July 13, 1995."

Mainwaring hummed and waved Hermione to continue retelling her account.

"I was studying when a whirlwind formed in my room..." Hermione retold everything she had told the professors only minutes before. Except she didn't mention Harry or Ron this time and explained how she knew the professors previously as her Headmaster and Head of House.

Then Mainwaring retrieved her memory and copied it before releasing back to her.

Hermione surprisingly found it all quite interesting and intriguing once she overcame her nerves against it.

"Now that that's done and over with Miss Granger we have one more chore that has to be done," he paused as he took a biscuit and pocketed it away for later. "I'm afraid that I will need to escort you to St Mungo's."

She blinked. Why would she need to go to St Mungo's?

"Just basic routine procedure," routine? "nothing too invasive but they'll probably need you to spend a day or two for observation."

She nodded her consent and stood, leaving behind her unfinished biscuit.

At least she wouldn't have to worry about where she would sleep tonight.

* * *

 

Albus Dumbledore was not one to sit idly by when things needed to be done - a trait that had matured with him since his toddlerhood back at the end of the last century - so after verifying that Miss Granger and Mainwaring had safely departed the grounds he rose and went to his office’s hearth.

"Albus," Minerva sharply called as she joined him at the ornate fireplace.

Albus turned, a small smile gracing his graying features but Minerva knew his forced smiles from his genuine one - having been his pupil and his apprentice had taught her how to read his more closeted feelings from the ever-present ebullient, sparkling, and benevolent facade he wore daily - and stayed his hand reaching for the Floo powder.

"What are we to do about this?"

"You know me too well," he muttered as his small smile faded into a thin line. "I don’t fully know yet," he trailed off as he gathered a measure of Floo powder, "except we shall continue in what we told the lass we would do: send her books. Something tells me that she will need something to keep her mind entertained during the next few days."

“Now?”

“No time like the present, Minerva.”

Minerva brows rose. "Do you think she’ll be in? Their terms do differ from ours and she might-"

"Oh, she’ll be in," he answered assuredly as he silently summoned his hat, catching it with a graceful nonchalance that most wizards half his age only dreamed of having. "Is there anything else that needs your attention?"

"No, I just finished when Miss Granger knocked."

"Good," he adjusted his tall hat and extended his right arm to her. "Care to join me, my dear deputy headmistress?"

Flashes of chores and tasks still waiting for her at home had her proud, diligent Scottish upbringing nagging her to stay before she saw that darn whimsical twinkle in his eyes. She could never deny him any request when he looked at her that way: like a young lad begging for attention.

"I best come and make sure you don’t start any international incidents like last time," a _nd_ _to keep that woman’s competitive hands away from Albus_. Thankfully, he always acted immune to her charms but Minerva knew that every wizard had his price.

"Ah, whatever would I do without you?"

"Start a war no doubt,” she huffed as she joined him in the ancient hearth.

"Hmm, maybe but maybe not," he winked before dropping the Floo powder and boldly exclaiming, "Ilvermorny!"

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

Severus's frown deepened as the storm outside worsened from a mere annoyance into a raging thunderstorm. It oddly matched his bleak mood.

It had been nine days since his ruined attempt to bring his soul-mate to him.

He barked a short humorless laugh.

What a ridiculous notion that he of all people would have a soul-mate. Someone fashioned for him. Someone that would treat him equally and not judge him according to his blood status or magic potential. He had had his full share of such _friendships_ in the past and he did not want nor need another one.

He looked back down at his advanced defense charm text and resumed reading. It was not the time for fanciful thoughts. Especially since he couldn't do anything about it one way or another.

"Help!"

Severus dropped his book and jumped from his bed wishing he still had a wand but ready for a fight.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

There was a pause before there was a timid reply that Severus couldn't quite catch followed by another plea for help.

It was coming from outside.

Assured that Black and Potter did not know where he lived, he opened the French doors and stepped out into the rain. He didn't see anyone.

"Where are you?"

"I don't know. I can't see anything!" Severus flinched as the girl bumped into something with a resounding bang. She mumbled something that Severus missed.

He believed her. With the increasing rain, he couldn't even see the ornate conservatory or the modest hedge maze beyond it and he had lived here for five years.

Just as he was about to step out further into the pouring rain a flash of blinding white light and a thunderous clap physically threw him back.

He awoke with a jolt.

It had been another blasted dream.

He needed a strong cup of tea.

He paused at his bedroom door as thunder clashed around him. Flashes of the most recent incarnation of those haunting dreams strengthened his need for something warm and soothing to drink.

Not for the first time he was thankful that his room was right next to the old servant's stairs that led directly down into the kitchen. He did not want to risk waking either his mother or his aunt since he was still technically grounded.

"Young master Snape?" squeaked Bonnie, one of the house-elves that worked at Prince Manor. "Why are you up? Something wrong?"

Severus inwardly groaned. He had hoped to be alone. Alone to contemplate why he was constantly having dreams with almost the same scenario. Alone to brew and enjoy a proper cuppa.

"The storm woke me. That's all, Bonnie." he lied as he fetched the old kettle and began filling it with water.

"Then Bonnie will make you a nice cup of chai."

"No," Severus's grip tightened on the tea kettle.

"Nonsense," Bonnie snapped her fingers and the kitchen hearth roared to life. "good calming chai will help young Master Snape it will." Bonnie snapped her fingers again this time sending the kettle over to the hot hearth. "Sit."

Sending a mild glare at Bonnie he took his seat on one of the stools that lined the modest bar. He disliked being mollycoddled but he also didn't want to witness the elf harm itself, thus, he kept mute as he waited for his tea to brew - Masala Chai, he suspected from all the flying green cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, ground cloves, ginger, and black peppercorn floating past him and into the now bubbling kettle - his thoughts drifted to tonight's dream.

After having dreams for the past eight nights, all of which centering around the same premise, he wasn't shocked that he dreamed nor was he shocked that his hypothesis had been correct: that the dreams' weather reflected the real weather. Tonight's one proved as much.

Instead, he was rather ... depressed.

He knew instinctively that these three sets of dreams were a result of his failure.

If only he had locked the bloody attic door then _she_ would be here and he wouldn't be struggling through these damnable dreams!

"Bonnie, how did you know that I needed tea?"

Severus stiffened but didn't move. So much for sneaking out for tea without his mom being none the wiser. He had failed again.

"Severus?" Eileen Snape paused at the doorway as Bonnie poured and delivered two steaming mugs of chai to the kitchen table.

"Tea. Young master and mistress Snape sit and drink."

Severus breathed in the Indian inspired tea as he waited for his mother's sharp tongue to scold him for breaking his grounding.

Eileen thanked the young house elf and picked up her mug but otherwise drank silently. Which was fine by Severus. He preferred silence over unnecessary chatter.

They sat and sipped their tea as the storm clashed and moaned against the old manor house. He hated rushing through good tea, even non-British style tea, but he also didn't want to push his luck. If his mother forgot or choose to overlook his stretching of the terms of his grounding: no outings with friends, no scamping through the estate, no partaking of entertainments (i.e. the odd game of whist or bridge), and keeping to a standard bedtime curfew of nine nightly: then he was more than fine to thank his lucky stars and head back while he was still ahead.

However, that was not to be the case as Severus stood, preparing to excuse himself back to his room, his mother put down her cup and asked, "Are you prepared for tomorrow?" Turning from her finished tea to her son, she continued, "I expect you to be on your best behavior when we welcome that poor American girl into our home."

He wanted to make a snappy retort about how he couldn't forget that a perfect stranger was coming into their home since both his mom and aunt reminded him constantly - that he wasn't some unrefined brute or simpleton like they thought him to be - but he held his tongue and reassured her that he was indeed ready.

"Good," she stood as Bonnie banished the cups and saucers into the sink and began washing them. "she has been through so much already that it is our duty to offer a home and friendly but firm structure for her."

Severus nodded and began climbing the old stairs back to his room.

"Oh Severus," he paused his ascent upward, "I'm willing to overlook this breach of your grounding, ** _if_** ," she waited till Severus faced her, giving her his full attention, "you agree to help your aunt Elizabeth with the coming festival."

He inwardly groaned. His mother was a true Slytherin. She knew how he avoided his aunt's Circle and how he preferred to celebrate holidays such as Lughnasa as quietly and solitary as possible (he was not one for boisterous revelry) but it would be better than having another round of grounding added to his sentence. He did not want to spend his whole summer pent up in his room.

"Fine, I'll do it."

His mood lightened somewhat when he saw the genuine smile settle upon his mother's usually stern and serious features before fading. She hardly ever smiled beyond fake, polite ones since Tobias's ... accident five years ago.

"Goodnight Severus," she called as she turned and left the kitchen pausing for a second as she heard her son's mirrored reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for your lovely comments. Each one helped and brightened my day. *hugs*
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter even with the dream episode at the start, and that y'all have been having a wonderful holiday season so far. (Belated Merry Christmas!)
> 
> And, don't worry either the next chapter or the one after it will be when they officially meet. I promise!


	8. Chapter 8

St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries hadn’t changed that much over the course of eighteen years... well, except perhaps with the exception of some long term patients, of course.

The moment Unspeakable Mainwaring introduced her to Chef Healer Vincent Vanguard, Hermione had been ushered through a bombardment of questions and diagnostic scans.

Being an only daughter of two highly health conscious muggle dentists, she had had little exposure to hospitals - which had been a blessing since common muggle medical procedure and practices did little to no benefit or actually confounded issues for Wizards - so she could not accurately determine if St Mungo's admission routine was either special or different as any other non-magical hospital but she was sure that asking questions such as, "Have you ever use a Time-Turner or traveled in time before?" or her new all time favorite question, "Have you run across any unusual books or trinkets with allusions to space-time or time travel recently?" was not part of muggle hospital admission questionnaires.

She was divested of her clothes and given a pair of new, clean patient wizarding robes. Robes that had been enchanted to monitor her vital signs, if she wasn’t mistaken about the characteristic nature of the interwoven notification magic that made up the simple blue and white checkered robe.

Then after it appeared that she wouldn’t be disappearing or fainting anytime soon she had been left alone in her new temporary home: the Samuel Beckett Ward. Briefly wondering why a time maladies ward would be named after the late poet she cautiously began exploring her surroundings.

There were four identical beds (except for the one bed assigned to her that now sported a floating chart that bobbed gently at the end of the bed every few seconds) with four matching nightstands complete with a self-serving and self-refilling water pitcher next to a basin and glass. There were also two privacy screens standing guard by the ward's entrance; a pile of wooden alphabet blocks lying in a half-hazard heap on top of an old Raggedy Andy doll which Hermione quickly rescued and placed on top of her bed; and at the far corner - and where Hermione now stood - was a small, pitiful bookcase that only housed four books: a book of poems penned by Samuel Beckett, a well worn Bible, C.S. Lewis's  _The Magician's Nephew_ , and a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's  _A Child's Garden of Verses_.

Grabbing the four books she went back to her bed and sat beside the recovered Raggedy Andy doll. Shifting the small stack of books to rest between them she surveyed the small and lonesome ward once more.

She was positive that if she was also a fan of those suspenseful horror movies that Dean and Sophie liked that she would find this ward creepy, spooky, or potentially sinister but thankfully she didn’t.

Okay, maybe it was slightly off-putting now that she thought about that comparison but she could quickly overcome it through reading. Thus, she opened the thickest book out of the four while automatically bringing Raggedy Andy closer before she began reading.

 

* * *

 

 

  
Hermione woke with a start and hurriedly tried to get a grasp of where she was. In only a few seconds she recognized where she was, St Mungo’s, and also when, 1976.

"Are you feeling all right, dear?" asked an entering nurse who Hermione hadn’t met before.

"Your heart and breathing were racing to beat each other," the nurse looked motherly and sounded quite approachable with a striking resemblance to Mrs. Weasley except for the slight graying at her temples.

"Yes, am quite fine,"  _liar_ , she chided herself, "thank you."

Hermione accepted the glass of water the nurse offered and drank it slowly as the nurse silently re-checked her vital signs with a wave of her wand.

"Now, why were you so upset?" the nurse asked after verifying that all vitals were returning back to their desired ranges. 

Hermione faltered for a beat before she begrudgingly replied, "I must have had a nightmare."

_Liar_ , her inner conscience barked again before she squashed it.

It had been more a half-truth really. She had had a disturbing dream not a nightmare exactly but might as well have been one for the sudden scare at the end.

"Must? Do you not remember what you dreamed, child?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, I don't."

All right, now that was a straight out lie. She did remember it, all too well, but something deep within her did not want to share it with anyone. Although, she knew that thought did not make reasonable sense. It wasn’t like she had a naughty dream or one that revisited a terrifying or extremely embarrassing moment in her young life, yet she felt oddly protective about it.

All it was, was a dream centered around her waking in the middle of a hedge maze at the parameter of some stately and private garden. It was twilight and she was finding it difficult to find her way. During her futile attempts to orient herself, she had cried out and had been surprised to hear a masculine voice call back demanding her to identify herself. Which she had, although whether the boy had heard her or not she did not know, at least he did answer back that he was coming.

A part of her had argued that she should stay where she was till he got there, but frankly, she didn’t know what to expect when he got there and seeing as she was wandless, not to mention curious to see what that small building before her was, she continued onward.

She quickly recognized the structure once inside, it was an old owlery, but instead of owls, it housed a large colony of bats. She had tried leaving the owlery quietly but there had been some loud noise from outside that stirred the resting bats into flight.

The last thing she remembered was covering her face as clouds of bats swarmed around her.

It was the exact same dream down to the bats from the night before.

"Well, if you ever remember and want to talk about it I’ll be here. Just a call away," the nurse said reassuringly, patting Hermione’s hand gently as she sent the empty glass back to the night stand.

"Thank you," Hermione managed, still wrestling with the guilt of lying to the friendly nurse.

"No problem, dear. Oh, I almost forgot," the nurse stopped and fished out a small, miniaturized parcel that had been wrapped in dark blue, glittery paper and silver twine. "This came to you earlier during the evening post."

Hermione cautiously took the package. She could barely make out the label since it was obviously shrunk with the rest of the package but it was addressed to her - it even included the correct ward - and it boasted the Hogwarts crest if she wasn't mistaken.

Could it be the books Headmaster Dumbledore had told her he would send?

She dared hope, having already finished the four books that made up the ward hours ago.

"Thank you," she muttered when she remembered her manners but the nurse had already left. Hermione untied the small box and smiled as it began to grow.

Realizing that it was becoming quite heavy and big she quickly set it down on the bed before her.

She was glad she did when, not a minute later, it had reached its original size which rivaled the dimensions of her school trunk. Lifting the lid she found a handwritten letter, on enchanted sky blue stationery that mirrored the early evening sky complete with tiny stars twinkling in the weave of the heavy paper, from Dumbledore:

> "Miss Granger,
> 
> Here is the promised information about America and Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft. I know you shall take very good care of these volumes and that they will offer you some respite if not answers to your situation.
> 
> Sincerely,  
> A Dumbledore  
> PS: There is also a small gift from both Professor McGonagall and myself. We hope that it will give you some resemblance of  
> comfort and company. "

Hermione carefully laid the letter aside on the night stand and looked into the box to discover an emerald green teddy bear. 

She smiled and took out the teddy bear and shook her head before placing it beside her and Raggedy Andy. "Now you have a friend," she muttered before she returned her attention back to the box. 

"Praise Gryffindor," she muttered as she carefully but excitedly took out book after book. The box held twenty-one books that seemed to range from muggle text to wizarding literature. She had never received twenty-one books in one parcel before and they were all leather bound and had obviously been tenderly handled with great care. Readjusting herself to where she sat cross-legged, her pillow behind her, she began reading each book’s title and sorting them into their appropriate piles of categories: American History, American Government, Wizarding America, and lastly, Ilvermony.

Making a mental note to ask for some stationery or parchment so she could send a thank you to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, she opened the modest bond pamphlet entitled  _The Legend of Ilvermony_  and started reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long absence with, well, everything really. The TL;DR of it is that I've been gravely ill and I haven't been able to do anything fandom related (yes, that includes art, writing, and RPing) for months. I am doing better and I actually want to get back into doing things again, so here I am. 
> 
> Oh, since my cell and FFN and DA hate each other I will be primarily be updating and uploading stuff here. Just FYI. 
> 
> Expect the next chapter sometime this week.


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